


Shortcomings

by Flynne



Series: Lynnie Amell [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Lynnie Amell, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 08:16:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14564814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flynne/pseuds/Flynne
Summary: After defeating Branka, Lynnie takes stock of what she's accomplished. And what she hasn't.





	Shortcomings

Lynnie shifted uneasily, casting another look at the inky shadows in the tunnel beyond the alcove where she and her companions had taken shelter. The fire could only push back the darkness of the Deep Roads so far, and even though they had cleared the tunnels of all the darkspawn they had encountered, she knew it would only be a matter of time before more came through. They’d traveled as far as they could after defeating Branka, but there was still nearly a full day’s travel ahead of them before they returned to the relative safety of Orzammar.  

She wished they could have kept going, but the truth of it was that everyone was exhausted (except for Shale, who had reminded them more than once that golems did not  _get_  tired), and all of them were battle-sore. Perhaps they could have made it if they’d pushed through, but Lynnie had learned to watch those under her charge for warning signs that they were reaching their limits, and Alistair had been dangerously close to his when she’d finally called a halt. A fresh pang of guilt rippled through her as she looked back at him over her shoulder. He sat with his back against the wall, gazing absently into the fire.  His legs stretched out in front of him, and his broken arm lay gingerly in his lap.  

Just as Branka had fallen, her last golem had plunged a boulder-sized fist down at Alistair. His shield absorbed the worst of the blow, but both bones in his left forearm had cracked from the thunderous impact. Luckily, they weren’t displaced as far as any of them could tell, but they were broken all the same. A worried frown creased Lynnie’s brow. Alistair looked uncomfortable still wearing his templar armor, but he’d declined help removing it, saying that trying to get the heavy plate off the limb and then back on again when they were ready to move out would hurt more than simply leaving it be.

Despite his unfocused expression, Alistair noticed her look round at him. His gaze shifted to her face, and his mouth slanted up in a weary shadow of his smile. “You’re staring. Do I have darkspawn blood on my face?”

Lynnie released a huff of almost-laughter. “For once, no.”

“What a shame. I like how tough it makes me look.”

They hadn’t spoken loudly, but Oghren let out a not-quite-under-his-breath grumble from over on his bedroll. He had his back to them but somehow still managed to look irritated at his sleep being disturbed. Lynnie almost rolled her eyes, but suppressed the impulse. She supposed he had a valid reason to be out of sorts, considering how the situation with Branka had panned out. She allowed herself a resigned sigh and rose to her feet, crossing the small alcove to kneel beside Alistair. “Do you need anything?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to about a dozen pillows, but I don’t think we brought that many along,” he said lightly.

Lynnie  _did_  roll her eyes at that, but she dug into her pack for her cloak. She gave his armored shoulder a nudge and he leaned forward, giving her room to settle the folded garment between his head and the rock wall.

“Much better. Thank you,” he said with a sigh.  He tilted his head back to look up at her. “And thanks for what you did for the arm. It helped a lot.”

Lynnie winced, unable to return his smile. His gratitude stung, and only amplified her feelings of failure. She’d tried to heal his arm immediately after the fight, but found that his injury was more than her skill at healing could handle. She’d been able to sense that both bones had broken, but when she’d tried to focus her mana she’d found that she hadn’t been able to differentiate between the two bones to heal them; she’d feared that if she tried, she’d risk merging them together and permanently crippling him. So she’d had to settle for a simpler healing spell - it had strengthened the damaged limb and eased his pain, but that was all she’d been able to manage. “I wish I could do more,” she said in a low voice. “I’ve spent so much time practicing how to fight that I’ve wasted time and neglected everything else. I thought I knew how to heal, but - ” She sighed dispiritedly. “I’m so sorry, Alistair.  As soon as we’re back at camp, Wynne can heal your arm. And I swear I’ll be ready next time.”

“Next time? What makes you think there’ll be a next time? I’m not  _that_  fragile,” Alistair said indignantly.

Lynnie blinked. “Wha - no, I didn’t mean - ”

Alistair chuckled, reaching over with his good hand to nudge her arm. “I was  _teasing_ ,” he said, cutting off her stammering. “Don’t worry, I’m telling you the truth - my arm really doesn’t hurt that badly,” he said, sobering. “I’ll be fine ‘til Wynne puts it right. And you haven’t wasted your time. Even if this is something you can’t completely fix, your healing spells have been enough to keep us on our feet during battles. We’ve all got different strengths. I don’t know if you noticed, but none of the rest of us in this charming little cave are healers.”

“It’s not the same,” Lynnie objected.  “I’m a mage. I should be able to heal people.”

“Why?” he asked, tilting his head. “Mages specialize, don’t they? Some are scholars, some are healers…some dabble in blood magic and unleash demons and hellbeasts…” Lynnie rolled her eyes again, feeling a smile tugging at one side of her mouth in spite of her discouragement. Alistair took her reaction as encouragement and kept going. “One person can’t do everything. It’s lucky for us that you  _have_  put so much effort into your attacks. None of the others would have been able to do what you did back there.” The mischievous glint came back into his eyes as he added, “Especially not Morrigan.”

A reluctant but amused snort escaped as she let him goad her out of her despondency. “If you behave yourself, I won’t tell her you said that.”

“But if she doesn’t  _know_  I said it, then what’s the point?”

“At least wait until  _after_  Wynne heals your arm to antagonize her,” Lynnie said dryly.

“Good plan.”

Lynnie shifted to sit beside him, letting out a sigh. “I really should know more about healing, though. I’ll ask Wynne to teach me. But I suppose for now all we can do is rest. Let me know when you feel up to moving out.”

“When  _I_  feel up to…?” Alistair’s brows lifted. “You didn’t stop because you thought  _I_  needed a rest, did you?”

“I didn’t  _think_  you did. I  _knew_  you did.”

“Was it feeling weak?” Shale asked, breaking her silence and turning to face them with a stony rumble. “We could have kept going if I had carried it. It is loud and annoying but it is not too heavy for me.”

“Wha - ?!” Alistair gaped at Shale for a moment, fumbling to decide what part of her statement was the most objectionable to him before he finally squawked, “I do  _not_  need to be  _carried!_ ”  

“ _It_  seemed to think so,” Shale said with a nod at Lynnie.

Lynnie did her best to fight back a grin with only marginal success, raising her hands in denial as Alistair turned to glare at her. “I never said that,” she said. The laughter at the edge of her voice just caused his frown to deepen. “I didn’t,” she repeated, slightly more soberly.  

Alistair’s face remained set in an affronted scowl, but humor glinted in his eyes as he said, “I suppose you’re going to tell me that if I behave myself, you won’t tell Morrigan what Shale said.”

Lynnie smirked. “But if she doesn’t  _know_  Shale said it, what’s the point?”

A burst of startled laughter tumbled out of him before he let out a theatrical groan and rubbed his face with his good hand. “Maker’s breath, you’re almost as bad as Wynne.”

“Don’t worry,” Lynnie said airily. “I told you she would teach me, remember?”

“ _Won_ derful. I can hardly wait.”

Lynnie laughed, prompting another annoyed grumble from Oghren, and she pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.

“Serves you right,” Alistair muttered petulantly, but the corners of his mouth curled upwards as he settled his head back against her cloak and shut his eyes. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to try and get some sleep. The sooner I’ve humored you, the sooner we can get out of these deepstalker-infested tunnels.”

“Good idea.” Lynnie hesitated, then said in a low voice, “You’ll let me know if your arm starts hurting again, won’t you?”

“Yes.” He opened his eyes briefly to look at her. “You did enough. Nothing’s lacking about your training.”

Her mouth took on a rueful twist. “Agree to disagree. But I’ll do my best not to blame myself.”

“That’s good enough for me.” He closed his eyes again. “Good night. Or good morning. Or good…whatever-it-is down here.”

Lynnie smiled. “Good night, Alistair.”  She moved away from the wall briefly, tugging her bedroll closer so she would be within reach if he needed her. Quicker than she’d thought it would be possible, she was asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after the (extremely difficult) fight with Branka. Lynnie was my first DA run, and I'd put a lot of points into strength so she could wear good armor and not be so squishy. In hindsight, I should have leveled her up differently, but I didn't know it at the time. So it's now canon that Lynnie is...pretty good, as far as mages go, but she didn't excel as much as she could have if she'd stayed at the Circle. Her strongest area is offensive/attack spells, which was an area of expertise that was discouraged by the voices of the chantry in Kinloch Hold. She learned those on her own, as she traveled and fought. (But she's able to knock a man out with one punch, so eventually she doesn't mind so much.) XD


End file.
